


you transfix me quite

by politicalmamaduck



Category: Jane Eyre - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jane Eyre Fusion, F/M, Gothic, No Pregnancy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Safe to Read if You're Triggered by Pregnancy, Snoke is the "Madwoman in the Attic"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-10-29 22:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20804345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/politicalmamaduck/pseuds/politicalmamaduck
Summary: It was as if a great shadow had descended upon Aldera Hall. Queer tales were told in the nearby village of strange happenings at night and bloodsoaked sheets that even the most skilled and robust laundresses could not wash out. Ghosts were said to wander the broad Yorkshire moors. These tales were once scoffed at by the hearty villagers, but they had gained currency of late. The ancient house was said to be haunted; not just by the spectres of the past, souls that had not yet gone on to rest, but by the sins of the present and wounds that could not be properly healed.





	you transfix me quite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OccasionallyCreative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionallyCreative/gifts).

> Written for the fourth annual (2019) Reylo Fanfiction Anthology: Amid Secrets and Monsters, and originally inspired by a prompt from my dear friend Eleanor/luminoustico! 
> 
> This is not a strict adaptation of Jane Eyre, unlike all of my Reylo Austen AUs, as there is no “madwoman in the attic”. Instead, Snoke lives in Ben and Rey’s manor wing, and rather than a governess to a ward, Rey is a companion for Leia. I wanted to emphasize the psychological horror of war regarding Ben as a veteran with PTSD and Snoke’s abuse in this fic, as a more modern-day twist on the Gothic tale we all know and love. Some lines are direct quotations from the novel.

It was as if a great shadow had descended upon Aldera Hall. Queer tales were told in the nearby village of strange happenings at night and bloodsoaked sheets that even the most skilled and robust laundresses could not wash out. Ghosts were said to wander the broad Yorkshire moors. These tales were once scoffed at by the hearty villagers, but they had gained currency of late. The ancient house was said to be haunted; not just by the spectres of the past, souls that had not yet gone on to rest, but by the sins of the present and wounds that could not be properly healed.

The manor’s mistress, the great Lady Organa, Duchess of Alderaan, was away on the Continent, leaving the management of her ancestral lands to her son, Benjamin Solo, a decorated officer in his own right after abandoning his studies at Oxford to find his fame fighting in his uncle’s regiment against Napoleon. The village parson remembered the great lady’s soul in his prayers each day, and exhorted the villagers to pray for her and her family at each Sunday service.

It was rumored that the Duchess’s brother and son had a disastrous falling out, and that young Ben Solo had returned from the wars not quite himself, with another commanding officer in tow. This mysterious elder gentleman called Snoke was never seen in the village, but Ben Solo generously allowed him to remain at Aldera Hall.  


“I do wish Lord Skywalker would return from the islands,” many in the village would say, only to be reminded by their compatriots of the enmity existing between the wise old soldier and the mysterious figure who had so taken Lord Solo under his sway. Many whispered further that Lord Snoke was the cause of the supposed hauntings, that he performed gruesome experiments on wounded soldiers during the war, or that he himself was a ghost, a spectre of evil come back for revenge.  


The two bachelors lived alone amidst the ghosts and tragedies of years gone by, it was said, until Lady Organa returned from Paris, declaring herself retired, and her son placed an advertisement for a genteel lady companion for his mother. His father General Solo had gone to a watery grave in the Atlantic, God rest his soul.

Ben Solo’s advertisement seeking a suitable companion, or secretary, perhaps, for Lady Organa was answered by a Miss Rey Johnson from Lancashire. She had been well-trained as a teacher and governess at the Lowood School in that county. She described herself as a hard worker, she could speak French, and her lack of familial entanglements was looked upon favorably by her prospective employer. Prior to her education, she came from an orphanage maintained by Mr. Unkar Plutt, who by all accounts was a strict master who often sent the younglings out as hired help.  


The young lady’s arrival in the village was greatly anticipated by all, many of the old matrons remembering her in their silent prayers at the local church on Sunday mornings. A young lady would do the old house—and family—some good, they thought. Perhaps the rumors were just that after all, they reassured themselves while they made the Sign of the Cross and looked over their shoulders. Tall tales and queer happenings were nothing compared to the modern age, or the Continental war with its own set of horrors caused by the Emperor.  


There were others in the village, however, who took it upon themselves to warn the young lady when she arrived. “The Skywalker family, from whom Lady Organa and her son are descended, had a history of extreme and violent behavior,” a wizened old crone told the governess, clasping her arm. “They’ve all been powerful, and brilliant, yes, and good-looking, but take care, miss. Something’s not quite right up in that old house. Lord Solo hasn’t been the same since he came back from the war with that older fellow.”

Rey smiled graciously, and thanked the woman for her concerns, but put those thoughts far from her mind as she hurried along to meet her new employers.

Lady Organa received Ms. Johnson warmly, welcoming her to Aldera Hall and reassuring her that she was free to explore the entirety of the house and grounds and make herself comfortable, save the wing occupied by Lord Snoke, about whom Lady Organa would say no more. In reply, Rey thanked her and urged her to call her simply Rey, as they would live and work on intimate terms from then forward. Having not grown up with courtly manners, her given name always felt more natural to her, and it was far better than being called simply ‘girl’ by her harsh former master.

And so Rey settled into her days at Aldera Hall, grateful for the support of a genteel noblewoman and an opportunity to build her own life, though her own shadows and ghosts haunted her, as well. The loss of her parents weighed upon her heart and soul; though she knew they were gone to their graves, God rest their souls, she still longed for a family in which to belong, and eagerly hoped that she could build a life for herself in Yorkshire.

It was initially difficult for Rey to converse with Lord Solo; he was scarcely human before a morning cup of tea, and often spent long hours wandering the grounds of his estate. He hacked away at dead trees and bushes with an ancient sword that dated back to the time of the Conqueror, with a unique hilt from which two more blades protruded.

It was Rey’s understanding that many young gentlemen who returned from the war on the Continent bore scars both physical and mental. It seemed Mr. Solo was one such; she could hear him crying out in the middle of the night, caught in yet another nightmare. He often suffered from migraines, rendering him incapable of leaving his canopied bed, the heavy draperies on both the bed and the large window panes drawn tightly shut to prevent the sun’s assault on his weakened state.

It was a horror, one that a country governess, now companion, could not comprehend, though she knew all too well the horrors of the orphanage. Her education and training was her sole pursuit and escape until she gained meaningful employment; her heart would never be entirely full, however, for the loss of her family and the abuse she endured at the hands of a harsh master.

And so she smiled over breakfast while her recalcitrant employer sipped his tea and slowly returned to the land of the living and the light. She offered her opinion when asked, and sought only to improve her employer’s disposition and situation by kindness and compassion. He seemed intrigued by her many drawings, often sketches of the surrounding countryside, or of his mother’s profile while she read or answered her voluminous correspondence. Despite his demeanor, she found Ben Solo to be a respectful employer and an intriguing study for her drawing pencil.  


She spent her days often reading aloud to the Lady Organa, who had been a great peer of the realm in her own right. She was wise, kind, and the sort of woman who could converse with anyone. Rey found herself smiling more often than not, certainly more than she ever had before, at Lady Organa’s wry observations and indomitable spirit.  


To Rey, Lady Organa became the surrogate mother she never had and for which she had always longed, yet Rey knew in her heart of hearts that her own mother had been no great lady, no astute woman of politics, nothing as compared to the kind, noble being who sat next to her before the fire and offered her the finest tea each day.

The house’s west wing was occupied by Lord Snoke, Ben’s commanding officer. The Lady Organa and Lord Snoke did not acknowledge each other; it seemed often to Rey that her employer’s mother resented the interloper’s influence over her son, though she would not deign to say so in her presence. Indeed, Rey feared the old man; when he walked, he towered over her. His height approached seven feet, and he cast a heavy shadow and a loud gait wherever he went. When he appeared, it seemed as though the temperature in the room would grow colder. Lord Snoke was haughty and condescending in his demeanor; he never called Rey familiarly by her given name, nor respectfully as ‘Miss Johnson’, but only referred to her as ‘child.’ His words were cruel and harsh, and never complimentary, whether of the meals their cook dutifully prepared for them or of Lord Solo and Lady Organa’s efforts to improve the estate. He was dismissive of her and the servants, and so she avoided him, as did Lady Organa; the two were never seen in the same room together.

Spring turned to summer, and summer to autumn, and Rey enjoyed her peaceful life at Aldera Hall, interrupted only by the rumors of ghosts and Ben Solo’s mood swings, which were more pronounced after long training sessions or meetings with Lord Snoke. The two could remain closeted for hours, pouring over maps and charts, or history books related to various military campaigns. When the weather was fine, they were also often out of doors, seemingly practicing readiness or drills for a war long since ended.

It was also after these long sessions that the laundresses spent longer days toiling at their task, the water dripping red and staining their hands, and the dark shadows languishing under Lord Solo’s eyes appeared more like bruises.   


Over tea one morning, after the lords had drilled for hours out of doors the previous day and Rey overheard a laundress bemoaning the state of Lord Solo’s clothes, Rey mentioned to Lady Organa that to her, young Lord Solo seemed quite changeful and abrupt.  


“He was such even as a child,” the lady replied, “though Snoke’s influence has made his short temper even more pronounced.”  


Rey nodded in understanding, though she had limited interactions with both gentlemen as of yet, and none with the supposed ghosts haunting the manor.  


Later that evening, as she headed for the library to select a volume to read after dinner, she overheard an impassioned conversation between mother and son.  


“He’s using you, and he will turn against you when he learns you cannot provide that which he requires.”  


“He is a wise leader.”

“Wars do not make a man great. He cares only for your lineage, our family history and bloodline. He seduced you, but you can still save yourself.”

With that, both hastened to their separate wings of the house, leaving Rey to select her night’s reading with a pounding heart and shaking hands.  


Despite his temper, and the abruptness with which he conducted conversations, Rey’s heart was inclined towards Ben Solo. Not only was he the son of the lady she so adored and a great war hero, who all hailed for his great courage and bravado, but she felt keenly for the loss of his father, being an orphan herself. Based on the conversation she overheard, Snoke reminded her painfully of Unkar Plutt. Certainly, should Lord Solo choose to withdraw from his contemplative solitude, he could be a great asset to the nation, or a respected country gentleman, or anything he so chose to be. She trusted and believed that were he to escape Snoke’s influence, she would become acquainted with his true self.  


It was with the changing of the seasons that the warm memories of the past six months seemed also to change, as did the character of Aldera Hall itself. The nights became longer, the wind more vicious and severe, and the rumored ghosts finally made their appearance. A rich fall harvest soon became the uncertainty of winter, with trees casting shadows over the white snow covered moors and weak sun- and moonlight to play tricks upon the eyes.

But tonight was peaceful. Rey saw Lady Organa to her chambers, then retired to her own, relishing the luxuries of as many candles as she could possibly need or want and the hall’s enormous library. She settled in to read, a cup of tea nearby and a blanket across her lap, when the air seemed to drop precipitously in temperature. No storm had passed by; the moors lay quiet and dormant, and all of the hall’s occupants, servants included, had gone to bed.  


It was altogether too quiet. Rey found herself awake and alert, as if waiting for something to occur.  


A dark, malignant laugh echoed through the halls. It was no ordinary laugh, from no ordinary human.  


Though she was certain it was but a trick of the light, Rey thought she saw a huge shadow pass by her door. It was at that moment that Niney, Ben’s black dog, began barking ferociously, and the shadow seemed to retreat, to slink back to whatever hell from whence it came.  


Rey did not leave her chamber again that evening; she did not dare. Nor did she dare to mention the incident over breakfast with Mr. Solo the next morning. He seemed more exhausted than usual; dark shadows circled his eyes, and he hardly spoke.  


The sun was glowing strongly when Rey went to Lady Organa’s parlor. The elder woman too appeared fatigued, and when Rey sat down upon her usual chaise, the lady rose from her desk and approached, sitting next to her. Lady Organa took Rey’s hand, clasping it to her and squeezing gently.  


“Snoke is unbalanced,” she said. “He’s been preying on my son for far too long.”  


“What can we do?” Rey asked, looking into the eyes of a mother losing her greatest hope.  


“I thought that my brother would be able to help him. I sent Ben to him, but that was when I lost him.”

“If I go to Ben on your behalf, will he listen? Would he return your affection and affiliation?”

“I don’t know,” Leia replied, shaking her head. “I have always believed that hope is like the sun; if you only believe in it when you can see it, you’ll never make it through the night. Perhaps, sometimes we need to make our own sunlight. Would you help me to write some letters today?”

Rey fetched the parchment and ink, and the two wrote to the lady’s many allies, great peers of the realm, former Parliament members, and eminences from overseas, to advance her latest political project—and perhaps to invite other people back into Ben’s life, to fill Aldera Hall with music and laughter and dancing, to perhaps end Benjamin Solo’s isolation, and chase away the memories clinging to corners and hiding in the darkness like a thick layer of dust.  


A few days passed, and the awaited reply letters did not arrive as expected.  


It was not long thereafter that Rey heard the strange laughter in the night once more. This night, it was not just the eerie peal of laughter, but the sound of fingers, and fingernails, brushing against the walls, trailing down the hallway leading to Ben Solo’s chambers.  


A door opened. A door closed.  


The shadow and the laughter disappeared. Rey’s heart was beating fast; all her senses were on alert. There was a darkness in the air, in the very heart of the place she so longed to call home, a darkness that fought to penetrate Lady Organa’s earnest, steadfast light. It sought to destroy a young man who sought to serve his country, learn the strategy of warfare, and returned home haunted by the blood he spilled in pursuit of that service.  


As if called by someone, or something, Rey grabbed her heavy robe and a candle and quietly crept out of her room.  


The heavy darkness was not a figment of her imagination, nor was it a trick of the light cast by the moon and the candles in the latest hours of the night; smoke emanated from Ben Solo’s chamber.

Moving as quickly as she could, she hurried to the door and thrust it open.  


Despite flame traveling up his bed from the heavy curtains, the chamber’s only occupant remained sound asleep; in the moon and candle light he looked peaceful and even younger than his nearly thirty years.  


“Wake up!” Rey cried, attempting to shake him awake. He merely murmured and turned; the smoke had stupefied him. 

It was by the grace of God, perhaps, that she looked up from Ben Solo’s prone form to his bedside table, where his own water pitcher sat. Grabbing it, she doused his bed curtains as best she could, and grabbed a nearby blanket to attempt to smother the rest before running back to her own room and grabbing her water jug. Returning to Ben’s chamber, she dumped the contents over him and his bed, by God’s aid, succeeded in extinguishing the flames.

Being drenched suddenly in water, along with the sounds of the commotion, finally awakened Ben Solo from his stupor. 

His arms flailed as if reaching for an invisible, nonexistent sword or musket as he sat up in bed and flung his blankets from him. 

“What happened? Rey?” he asked, looking about frantically. 

“Your curtains were on fire, sir, and I was afraid you’d never awaken,” she replied. “Somebody has plotted something; you cannot too soon find out who and what it is.”

He shook his head, droplets falling from his hair, and grabbed his dressing gown and another blanket. He then stepped toward Rey, reaching for her hands to ascertain if she had been burned. 

“Rey, are you alright? You saved my life.”

She nodded, shaking from fear and adrenaline.  


“I’ll be back in just a moment. I must go to check on something. Will you remain here? Are you certain that you are unharmed?”  


“Yes, thank you. I shall remain here until you return.”

“Thank you, Rey. Do not bother waking my mother. I will return shortly.”  


While Lord Solo was gone, seeking to make herself useful, Rey refilled his water pitcher from the basin in his water closet and put the singed and smoke scented blanket out to be washed. She examined the room closely, trying to discern any evidence which would give rise to the assailant’s identity. There was no candlestick holder to be found, but melted wax had pooled on the floor beneath the heavy draperies. She sat down upon the unharmed bed, and considered all that she had seen and heard that night.  


The servants and Lady Organa slept in separate quarters, on the other floors of the house. In this wing, only herself, Lord Solo, and Lord Snoke kept their quarters. There was no reason to suspect Lady Organa would want to harm her only son; it was her deepest desire that his relationship with her brother, his uncle, be repaired, and that he devote himself to the family estate and accept his position as heir. Nor did Rey believe there would be a motive for any of the servants to want to kill their master; she knew them to be hard working, devoted, and well paid for their labors and circumspection.  


She was certain that Snoke had tried to kill his young companion because he would not completely sever his relationship with his mother. She would not dare voice her suspicion aloud with everything in such a state, nor break her promise to Lord Solo.  


True to his word, Ben Solo soon returned.

“I have found it all out, it is just as I thought. Have you heard queer laughter late at night before, Rey?”  


“Yes, in fact I have. Lord Solo—” she began, but he cut her off, taking her hands in his own.  


“You just saved my life, for which I will never even begin to comprehend repayment. Please, call me Ben.”  


She looked up at him, startled by his earnest entreaty and plain words, and found herself captivated by his dark eyes. They were so like his mother’s eyes, and yet quite unlike, for she knew them most frequently to be haunted and encircled by deep shadows, like bruises marring his elegant face, the result of far too many sleepless nights and migraines preying upon his mind.  


She nodded, swallowed, and continued. “Thank you, Ben. I could do no less. I must confess that I do not believe either of us will have a deep, peaceful rest tonight.”

“No indeed,” he replied, turning away from her and releasing her hands. He rubbed at his temples and pushed his sable hair away from his face.

“Please do try to get some rest tonight, however,” he said, turning back to face Rey once more. “I will escort you back to your chamber. Please do also tell no one what you saw tonight.”

She nodded once more, and took his proffered hand as he walked her to her chamber door.  


After bidding her good night, he bowed and kissed her hand, then headed not back to his own quarters, but to the library Rey so loved. 

Retiring once more, Rey could not help but wonder why her heart was still racing, why she could still feel the press of Ben Solo’s lips on her hand like a brand that had inflamed her entire body, her very soul.  


She slept, dreaming of fire and entangled sheets and Ben Solo’s plush lips and raven hair.  


The next morning, upon entering the library to select a new book to read with Lady Organa, she found Ben asleep upon the sofa.  


She was thankful that she did not gasp or make a sound when she saw him, for his deep, even breathing indicated he was finally getting the restful sleep he so desperately needed. She tiptoed around the sofa, grabbed a few books at random, and crept back out of the library as quickly as possible.  


Over breakfast, he did not mention seeing her that morning, much to her relief, nor did he mention the terrifying incident of the night prior. He did, however, tell her that he was to be away for about a week; business in London called his attention, and he thought some time away might do his constitution some good. Besides, it would be difficult to head south once the winter set in.  


Rey was pleased that he would be safe from Snoke’s pernicious influence for at least a week, and that he seemed eager to transact the duties expected of him as a landed gentleman, but she could not help but admit to herself she would miss him terribly. 

* * *

A week’s time had passed, and Rey not only kept her promise to Ben to not speak of what transpired to his mother, she also kept her promise to herself not to dwell on her budding sentiments for him.  


There were no further incidents in the nighttime, and Rey did not see Lord Snoke at all during that period, for which she prayed and thanked whichever deities were smiling down upon her.   


When Ben did finally return, he seemed quite well; some color had returned to his cheeks, and the shadows under his eyes were not nearly as pronounced. Lady Organa too was relieved to see him well again, and the three enjoyed a lively evening meal with a lovely French wine.

That night, after all had retired to bed, the horrors began again.  


Rey was started out of a deep and dreamless sleep by a quiet knock on her door. She opened it to admit Ben Solo, holding a cloth to his face. 

“Forgive me, Rey, but I could use your help once more. Are you afraid of blood?” he asked, taking her hand as she led him to her reading chair.  


“No, Mr. Solo. I mean, Ben,” she added hurriedly, concerned for his safety and health. “I am not afraid of blood.”

“Will you help me?” he asked, removing the cloth from his face to show a gash leading up his cheek.  


“Of course,” she replied, grabbing fresh cloths from her water closet. She brought them to him, urging him to press them to the open wound while she rinsed the bloody linens he removed. He sat in her reading chair, looking lost and forlorn, like a young boy who had lost his prized puppy rather than a distinguished former soldier and a member of the gentry.  


“Will you go downstairs, into the quarters near the kitchen? There should be some herbs and potions down there. I can manage while you’re gone,” he asked when she stepped back into her chamber with the rinsed fabric.

“I can make a poultice,” she offered, nodding.  


“Thank you,” he said, quietly. She took up a candle and was about to leave when he added, “If you see my mother or Snoke, say nothing.”  


She turned back to look at him; his face was in his hands, blood starting to come through the new cloth. His dark hair caught the candlelight as always, searing her heart once more.  


Rey hurried downstairs to find what she needed, and saw no one. It seemed that her lady and the evil lord were deep in sleep. She dared not ask how Ben was injured so; though her thoughts did not linger upon it, her heart knew the answer already.  


She returned to her chamber to minister to Ben, and after about a quarter of an hour or so, the bleeding seemed to cease, and he suggested a walk outside for some fresh air, not long before the sun was due to rise.  


After yet another night that seemed bleaker than most, and another spate of violence determined to end the life of one for whom she so cared, Rey was eager to step out from the house’s suddenly pressing confinement and into the orchard. It was chilly, but she knew the fresh air would do her well, and she was heartened to take a turn about the garden on Ben’s arm.

“Rey, do you believe it possible that one may return from utter darkness, that even the worst sins can be forgiven?”

“I do,” she replied. “If one’s heart is true, if mankind’s goodness still resides within, and forgiveness is sought, who are we to judge what only God may?”

“Would your answer remain the same if I told you a story of a young man, who made a capital error in a foreign country, turning his life from its intended course, and then continued to follow the wrong path through a dark wood? Even when he held the hopes of redeeming himself in his deepest heart, fighting against his own unsavory nature and wishing to enjoin himself in matrimony with an honest and moral wife, would he be justified in overleaping an obstacle of custom?”

“Such a man must look to God for his salvation, not to another person.” At this, he took her hand, and pressed it gently.  


“I am grateful, Rey,” he replied, “for this and all the kindness you have done me.”  


“You are not alone,” she answered, surprising herself with the firmness of her conviction. Her emotions were in a flutter, her heart beating rapidly from the revelations with which she had been presented.

“Neither are you,” he replied, and with that, he kissed her hand once more.  


He took his leave of her as Dawn stretched her rosy fingers over their garden corner, the cocks beginning to crow and the sounds of the earth awakening from their deep slumber to begin another day.

After the episode of the previous night, she had to admit to herself that she had developed feelings for Ben Solo, for which she scolded and castigated herself. After all, she was no one, born to nobody in the western reaches of the country; he was the heir to a great estate, and son to a noble family dating back to the Conqueror.  


She resolved quite firmly to put her feelings aside, though she felt her racing heart betrayed her when he once more took her hand and kissed it before bidding her adieu.

* * *

After her sleepless night and dawn sojourn through the gardens with Ben, the day passed strangely for Rey. She felt disembodied, as if she were the rumored ghost said to be haunting the Hall. She knew, however, that there existed no ghost, but rather a cruel and evil man who meted out violent punishment upon his apprentice.

Rey did not see Snoke that day, but rather shadows in every corner, seemingly to match those under Ben’s and her eyes.  


She could hardly concentrate on prayers, reading, or conversing with Lady Organa; her mind seemed clouded by a mist, like the dew rising off the moors in the summertime, or a fog indicating a heavy storm to follow.  


That night, she retired early, taking care to bolt her door shut and locked. She did not dare keep a candle lit by her bedside, using only the moonlight to make ready for bed.  


She fell into a light sleep, only to be awakened by a scratching along the hallway passage. A heavy foot accompanied it; she recognized that loud gait. The temperature in Rey’s chamber seemed to drop while her heart rate rose precipitously.  


It was Snoke, as her heart had expected and feared all along.

She reminded herself she had firmly locked and bolted her door that night and though he was strong, a former military leader, he could not walk through walls.

Her doorknob rattled as he tried it. Rey scarcely breathed, praying earnestly that he would turn back down the hallway and return to his own quarters, sparing the rest of the household from whatever horrors he had planned.  


Rey’s prayers were not to be answered that night, as the oppressive presence at her chamber door continued down the passageway to Ben Solo’s quarters.  


She flung off her blankets, grabbed her dressing gown, and unbolted her door. Her entrance into the hallway served as a distraction from the dark lord’s nefarious purpose, as she had planned, but beyond that, she had not thought ahead to what she—or he—would do.  


No ghost or malicious spirit come back from the dead greeted her, but Snoke did.  


His eyes were particularly cruel and vicious, menacing in the moonlight. Rey had not kept a candle lit for her own protection and peace of mind that night; now she lamented it, for she could have flung it at the evil entity now present before her. She had no weapons, no manner of defending herself beyond her own wits and courage, those she had to rely upon when facing Mr. Plutt’s rage.  


Perhaps the situation was not so different, she tried to tell herself, but Mr. Plutt had never wanted Rey or any of her fellow orphans dead, nor had he ever tried to set one of his apprentices on fire in their own bed.  


“You,” he said, pointing a long, white finger at her. “Pathetic child. I cannot be betrayed. I cannot be beaten. I know his mind. I know his every intent.”

Rey did not allow his condescension or her terror to sway her resolve, or weaken her spirit. She did not hold his gaze, but rather cast about her for anything she could use as protection.  


An ancient suit of armor, one to which she had never paid much mind, stood sentry in the hallway.  


As he approached her, she pulled the old sword from the knight’s scabbard. It was heavy, but it felt right in her hands. She stood her ground as she had seen Ben do with his own preferred sword.

It was then that two momentous occurrences happened simultaneously, which Rey would never be able to explain save for the appearance of an avenging guardian angel, or once more the grace of God.  


She realized that Snoke too bore a heavy sword by his side, and as she realized his intent, it was then that Ben Solo emerged from his chamber, putting himself between Rey and Snoke.  


He looked up at Snoke, then back to Rey, and she wordlessly handed him the sword she had claimed.  


The deadliest dance Rey had ever, or would ever, witness ensued. She was uncertain as to how the clanging of metal on metal did not awaken every servant, even though their quarters were on the floor below.  


“You have too much of your father's heart in you, young Solo. When I found you, I saw what all masters live to see: raw, untamed power and beyond that, something truly special. The potential of your bloodline. But now, you are nothing, weakened by an orphan girl,” Snoke taunted, striking out once more.  


He missed Ben’s blade, below his own, and while Snoke’s blade caught the air, sounding like a ghost moving through the hallway, Ben’s blade struck true, ending his master’s life.  


Rey rushed to him, to once more find blood covering them both.  


It seemed as if a spell had been broken, for it was then that the sun rose, bringing with it servants and Lady Organa herself at the top of the stairs to witness the gruesome tableau.  


Rey soon found herself returned to her chamber, a heavy sleeping draught prepared for her and Ben both.  


* * *

Ben spent a few days convalescing and recovering from his wounds, then requested that Rey meet him in the garden for tea one bright spring morning.  


To Rey, gratitude, and many associations, all pleasurable and genial, made his face the object she best liked to see; his presence in a room was more cheering than the brightest fire on a cold Yorkshire night. However, she feared that in the aftermath of his precipitous duel with his master, he would blame her for its cause or change his mind about continuing her employment as his mother’s companion.  


“Rey,” he greeted her, but before he could continue, she forced herself to speak.

“I will find another position,” she began. “I entirely understand if you no longer desire my presence here at Aldera Hall.”  


He shook his head. “Nothing could be further from the truth; I desire quite the opposite, in fact. Unless you prefer to leave,” he hurriedly added. “I can understand if you came to despise and fear this place, and feel trapped in its net.”

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will,” she replied, searching his face for the blunt, tactless honesty she had always known him to possess.  


“And your will shall decide your destiny,” he said, reaching for her hand. “That is why I myself will entirely understand if you do not wish to do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage. I offer you my hand, my heart, and a share of all my possessions. I ask you to pass through life at my side—to be my second self, and best earthly companion.”  


She smiled, entwining her fingers with his own.  


“I will marry you, Ben. But you must ask your mother for her forgiveness, and I must ask her blessing.”  


The pair could have passed several hours or even days amongst themselves sitting in the garden, holding hands, but returned to the great manor house to attend their duties and start their life together anew.  


Her heart full, Rey presented herself to Lady Organa, her eyes twinkling in the sunlight.

“My lady,” she began, sitting down on the sofa next to her. “Your son has had an unfortunate past, and made many mistakes. I told him that he must look to God for his own salvation and redemption, not to another person. He allowed a cruel master to transform his heart and mind against you and against your teachings, morals, and bloodline. He must ask and pray for forgiveness. And yet, while I breathe and think I must love him.”

The wise older lady, so like a mother to Rey, smiled and took her hands in her own. “I give you my blessing. It would be my greatest joy to have you as my daughter.”

Rey’s heart brimmed over with joy; her countenance glowed in the spring sunlight and with her greatest happiness.  


Reader, she married him. 

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my dearest mod sisters for their grace, patience, support, and love this summer, especially my editors Celia and Viv. Another huge thank you to my beta boo, Desiree, for the same. 
> 
> Please do leave comments and kudos with your thoughts, and do the same for the rest of the Anthology pieces. Please also do come find me on Tumblr and Twitter.


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